I haven’t said a lot about coming back but today, randomly, out of boredom, I opened my picture folder to peruse through recent photos.

I hit a photo that made me stop. It was a picture of us, taking a selfie with our car in the background. It was the day before we sold our car and even though I’m smiling in most of the pictures and even though I walked into the dealership with a cold expression, my heart was breaking.

If anyone were to ask me what the hardest thing I had to do throughout my years studying abroad was, my mind would answer: the first few weeks trying to look for a place to stay and setting up (bank accounts, phone lines, internet service, registering for classes, etc).

My heart would answer: selling my car.

Occasionally when I’m sitting in the car back here, I will start to remember what my car felt like. I will imagine the cloth seats and the slight scratchiness of the material, the way the steering wheel felt in my hands, the way my hand curled around the gear stick, the perfect positioning of the indicator and wiper switch that I could hit with just a flick of my wrist. I will think about the dashboard that I never put anything on, the AUX cable that would always get stuck between the passenger seat and gear area, and the touchscreen panel that I never appreciated enough. I try to picture myself in the driver’s seat again, try to pretend that I never left.

That car is my first love and even though there are plenty of cars to be driven and cared for, no car can replace the love I have for the first. And I’m 300% sure nobody will ever love that car the way I loved it.

Thank you for all the memories. You were amazing.

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